


Skeptics and True Believers

by harmonies_in_discord



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Band Fic, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Content, Shounen-ai, Trans Male Character, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmonies_in_discord/pseuds/harmonies_in_discord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trowa is just your not-so-average college student that wants to make it big in the music industry with his band. Will his secret test his relationships and hurt his chances in music? Trans!Trowa</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liars Turn Me On

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I’ve wanted to write a fic concerning FTM (or Female-to-Male) transitioning for a long time, but I couldn’t really decide how to go about writing it. For this fic, I drew inspiration from author frk_werewolf ‘s You Only See What I Let You See, a Panic! At the Disco trans!fic written on LiveJournal back in 2008. I was also inspired by The Chains We Wear by LadyKeinKhan on Adult Fan Fiction//Ahsim on Ao3, though it’s quite different. If you decide to read The Chains We Wear, PLEASE read all of the warnings listed. Saying that it’s rough is an understatement. Also, please keep in mind that I am not an expert by any means in transitioning, and though I did plenty of research beforehand, research only gets you so far. Any and all constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> Another note: In this ‘verse, the five guys were born 1989-1990. Also, it’s not mentioned yet, but the location that this fanfic takes place in is Denton, Texas, and the boys attend the University of North Texas, or UNT.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely themanwell!

_October 14, 2004_

_Something is wrong_ , Trina thought as she and Quatre sat on the floor of her best friend's bedroom, schoolbooks spread out around them as they attempted to work together on a World Geography assignment. Quatre had been biting at his lower lip since they arrived at the house after school and Trina knew something was up with him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew there was something on his mind that he wanted to talk about. 

“Quatre.”

Quatre jerked his head up from the textbook in his lap, having been staring at it with his brows furrowed without really reading anything for a good five minutes. 

“Huh?”

Trina shook her head and smiled softly, her chestnut bangs hanging slightly over one of her eyes. “If you keep staring like that, you’re gonna burn a hole through the textbook. What’s wrong?”

Quatre flushed and ducked his head, letting his blonde bangs fall over his face and hide his aquamarine colored eyes. “There’s something I wanna tell you, but... I don’t know.”

Trina frowned a little. “Talk to me, Quat.”

Quatre stared down at his lap, fiddling with his hands. “I’m not sure how to tell you this. I’ve been having these feelings for a while. I… I’m not sure I’m going to ever have a girlfriend.”

Trina moved the textbook out of Quatre’s lap and scooted closer on the carpet, ducking her head down so that she could see under Quatre's pale blonde bangs. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were watery, his teeth back to chewing his lower lip.

“I know.” At Trina’s words, Quatre instantly relaxed and reached over to squeeze his best friend’s free hand. Trina squeezed back and sucked in a steadying breath, knowing that it was only fair to tell Quatre what she’d known about herself since she was a little kid but never acknowledged out-loud to anyone. She let her hand slip from Quatre’s chin and looked away. 

“Me neither.”

Quatre chuckled. "Gee, there's nothing wrong with having a boyfriend!"

Trina made a little distressed noise. "No, I mean, I if were with someone… they’d be a guy but I wouldn’t be… they wouldn’t have a girlfriend.”

Quatre stayed quiet for a minute and moved so that Trina and he were face to face. 

“Trina? What is it you're trying to say? I'm confused.”

Trina winced. A surge of fear made her voice catch in the back of her throat. Trina swallowed hard and gathered her thoughts before lifting her head just enough to look at Quatre from behind her mess of light brown hair.

“I don’t feel right. I don’t belong in this body. It feels _wrong_.” Trina didn’t miss the confusion that filled Quatre’s eyes or the way that he tilted his head slightly to the side.

“What do you mean ‘it feels wrong’?” 

The tall girl sitting across from Quatre gave him a tiny, scared smile. “I’m not supposed to be a girl, Quatre. I’ve known that since I was old enough to tell the difference between the other girls and boys.” Trina was surprised she was able to keep her voice as steady as she did; she was terrified that she just lost her best friend for telling him about her gender dysphoria.

Trina watched Quatre's eyes widen. Sure, she was different than any other girl at school, but she doubted he expected her to identify as a boy. Her hands shook and her face was pale, and fuck was she afraid. Quatre reached out and took her other trembling hand into his own, giving both hands a firm squeeze.

“If you feel like you’re a boy, then that’s who you are. You’re my best friend, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Trina took in a sharp breath and squeezed her very best friend's hands tightly. She gave the other boy a smile so wide it could’ve split her face, and for the first time she truly felt free.

XxXxX

_January 17, 2009_

Trowa hated his body.

Maybe not hate; hate was a bit too strong of a word to describe how he felt. But it most certainly felt _wrong_. The soft curve of his hips, the slightly fuller swell of his ass, and those _breasts_. It was those two lumps of excess fat on his chest that he couldn’t stand more than anything. They weren’t overly large, if anything they were average and perky; Trowa was a solid 32 B cup, though he hadn’t actually worn a proper bra since early June. But the fact of the matter was that he wasn’t supposed to have a body with breasts. He wasn’t supposed to be _female_. And here he was, someone with a woman’s body when his brain screamed male. And he’d be damned if he’d stay this way forever.

For as long as he could remember, Trowa knew that the body he was born into didn’t match how he felt on the inside. When he was a child, it was something that scared the hell out of him, but he could manage. People took him for a tomboy and he was okay with that; he had absolutely no interest in girly things like Barbie dolls or playing dress-up with his mommy’s clothes or makeup. Roughhousing with the boys in his grade had been no problem, and on the rare occasion that a boy decided Trowa couldn’t play with them because he was a girl, the kid usually ended up with a black eye.

Then came the summer before starting sixth grade; he was going through a growth spurt, but along with it came other changes to his body. When middle school started that fall, all of the boys that had treated him as “one of the guys” suddenly became aware that even though Trowa was a tomboy, holy shit he had breasts now that they couldn’t possibly ignore. Trowa hated the constant reminders of being female that his body gave him, from those stupid breasts right down to the monthly bleeding between his legs that other eleven-year-old girls would brag about starting.

Trowa stood in the bathroom of the apartment he shared with his roommate and stared at himself in the mirror above the sink. His light brown hair fell in an asymmetrical yet boyish hair cut, his bangs hanging over one of his forest green eyes. It was still messy from sleep, but nothing he couldn’t handle fixing with a brush. Sighing to himself, Trowa ran the tips of his fingers over his right cheek, sliding his hand down his chin and neck. It wasn’t very noticeable, but there was a definite “peach fuzz” of stubble beginning to grow. It had been about six months since he started his testosterone shots, and he was beginning to see and feel a change in his body. The biggest difference was his voice. Trowa never had a very high voice to begin with, but to him it was the one “tell” about himself that he couldn’t really hide. Around those who weren’t privy to his secret, he often kept conversation to a minimum. But in the last three months the tone of his voice had shifted down several pitches and Trowa couldn’t be happier. His voice still had a bit of airiness to it, but otherwise it was a smooth tenor that didn’t sound the least bit feminine.

He allowed his gaze to shift lower in the mirror, his lips pursed in a tight expression as he looked at the breasts he usually kept hidden from himself and the rest of the world. They stood there, bare and perky and still the same size that they were before starting his weekly injections. He had hoped that they would have started to shrink a little by now, but he knew that most of the changes his body needed to undergo wouldn’t start happening for several more months. For now, Trowa had to settle with keeping them bound with a binding vest until either the T shrunk them down a bit or he could afford to have top surgery to remove his breasts. He tore his gaze away from the mirror and grabbed the nude binding fabric from where it lay on the vanity next to the faded grey tee he had slept in, having taken off the vest to sleep. With a few quick motions Trowa had the material zipped and secure, the swell of his breasts now successfully flat.

A sudden knock to the bathroom door nearly made Trowa jump out of his skin. He fumbled a little, tugging on his shirt before clearing his throat and opening the door. Quatre stood in the hallway with a bright smile on his face, clad in a pair of silk pajama pants and a loose fitting t-shirt and a spatula in hand. And from the smell wafting down the hallway, he had just finished making breakfast.

“Good morning, Trowa! Breakfast is ready, whenever you’re hungry.” 

Trowa couldn’t help but return his roommate’s infectious smile. “Thanks, Quatre.” 

He and Quatre had been best friends since the start of high school just over four years ago, back when Trowa’s name was still Trina, and ever since they moved into their two-bedroom apartment together during the summer, Quatre had made it a point to fix breakfast every morning before heading out to their college classes or band practice. Not that Trowa minded; Quatre loved to cook and Trowa could barely manage to scramble eggs without ruining the frying pan.

Trowa smoothed out his knee-length athletic shorts and shut off the bathroom light before following his roommate into the little dining area connected to the kitchen. Quatre had already set out two plates of pancakes and bacon and the carton of orange juice with two empty juice glasses sat waiting in the center of the rounded table. Trowa sat down and poured himself a glass of juice as well as one for his best friend standing in the kitchen nook, chatting animatedly on his cell. When Quatre hung up and sat across from Trowa, the taller boy was already chewing on a slice of bacon while cutting up his pancakes. Trowa swallowed and took a swig of his juice. 

“What’s up?”

“That was Wufei, and he said for us to come over an hour earlier for practice today. A friend of Heero’s from his music theory class is auditioning.”

Trowa made a surprised noise. Quatre and Trowa were in a band with Quatre’s boyfriend Heero and their friend Wufei. Up until now Heero managed to handle singing along with playing the guitar, but he knew that he’d be better off choosing one or the other. So, at the beginning of the month they started searching for a new vocalist, and so far they hadn’t had much luck. Any audition was welcome at this point.

“Yeah? What’s his name?”

Quatre dug into his meal, careful not to make a mess. “Duo Maxwell, I think.”

“Huh.” Trowa shrugged. The two ate their breakfast in a comfortable silence, both wondering about how practice would turn out. When they were finished, they carried out their usual morning routine. Trowa would wash the dishes and cooking utensils while Quatre hopped into the shower, and every morning Trowa would be dressed and ready to go well before his roommate.

XxXxX

When Trowa and Quatre arrived at Wufei’s house just before ten o’clock, Wufei stood outside the open garage door muttering to himself. “This damn thing better be worth getting woken up by Heero at seven am.” Quatre laughed and patted Wufei on the shoulder lightly, Trowa carrying his bass guitar to the garage where the rest of the instruments were set up. So far, there was no sign of Heero or this Duo Maxwell character.

As if on cue, a red Jeep Wrangler pulled up in the vacant spot on the driveway, a boy with piercing blue eyes and short messy chocolate hair hopping out of the driver’s seat. He walked over and let Quatre sneak in a tiny kiss to his lips. Another boy bounced out of the passenger seat of the Jeep and waved happily at the others. Trowa’s heart nearly stopped as he turned around from setting up his guitar; the other boy was _gorgeous_. He donned a long brunette braid stopping just above his waist. He was clad in a purple V-neck tee and black skinny jeans that hugged his lower body in all the right places. But what nearly had Trowa gasping for air were the boys eyes, a beautiful cobalt blue with just a hint of violet. He’d never seen anything quite like it. Trowa swallowed and rubbed his hands on the outside thighs of his jeans and decided he’d better walk over to where the other four were standing.

The new boy rocked on the balls of his feet and grinned at the group. “Hi, I’m Duo Maxwell! Nice to meetcha!” He held his hand out to Trowa first, and the taller boy felt his throat go dry again as he shook Duo’s hand.

“Likewise.” Duo shook Wufei and Quatre’s hands, chatting idly and getting to know his new companions. Apparently Heero had mentioned the group offhand when he brought up their band needing a singer, and it was clear Duo had all but jumped at the chance to set up an audition.

Wufei used a hand to cover up a yawn. “Alright, Maxwell. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The five boys made their way into the large garage. Quatre turned on his keyboard and synthesizer, humming softly while the Heero and Trowa made sure their guitars were in tune and plugged into the amps. Wufei settled behind his drum kit, drumming out a quick rhythm. Quatre hooked up a microphone and handed it to Duo, giving him a soft smile. “Shall we start with a cover?”

Duo took the mic and smiled brightly. “Sure! Did you guys have something in mind?”

Heero adjusted his own microphone and shrugged. “How about ‘Bounce?’”

Duo gave Heero a wolfish grin. “Liars do turn me on, after all.” With a snort from Heero in response, Wufei tapped out the opening rhythm to the song.

Trowa nearly gasped when Duo started singing. His voice rolled out in a sultry baritone, sending shivers up Trowa’s spine. He glanced over at Quatre, who looked just as surprised as Trowa at the beautiful voice coming out of the new guy. No one had expected him to sing so well, and for a moment even Heero and Wufei almost faulted with their instruments. By the first chorus of the song, the five were playing with such perfect sync that everyone knew this was the way it was meant to be; everything clicked.

At the last phrase of the song, Duo locked eyes with Trowa as he sang those words: _“And when you use your lips, they better be on me.”_ Trowa felt a shudder run through his body and his cheeks pinken, but he didn’t turn his gaze from the other boy. They finished the song and Duo spun on his toes to face everyone. He wore the same impish grin from earlier as he took in everyone’s expressions, a mix of happiness, satisfaction, and even a bit of surprise.

“So, did I pass?”

The other four boys exchanged glances, nodding in agreement. Quatre gave Duo a genuine smile. “Welcome to the band.”

XxXxX

_February 25, 2009_

“Have you told him yet?”

Trowa jerked his head up from his biology textbook and looked at Wufei. Wufei didn’t even look up from his notebook, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He had come over to Trowa and Quatre’s apartment under the guise of studying together for their upcoming midterm on Friday, but Trowa quickly realized that studying wasn’t the only thing Wufei had in mind. 

“Told him what?”

Wufei snorted. “You know damn well what I’m talking about, Barton.”

Trowa sighed and crossed his arms, closing his eyes to avoid Wufei’s gaze when the man looked up from his notes. “Not yet.” 

It had been almost six weeks since Duo had joined their band Sandrock, and things had been going as well as any of them could’ve hoped for. New music was finally getting written, as were lyrics, and all five guys often spent their time together on campus between classes. They were preparing for an upcoming gig at the campus pub the first week of March right before Spring Break, and it was no secret that Duo was the most excited. It was his first show with his new band mates. Their rapport was easy, perfect, and Trowa didn’t want to ruin it. Not with Duo.

Wufei wasn’t stupid. He knew there was a mutual attraction between Trowa and Duo, yet neither man said anything directly about it to one another. Before Duo had joined the band, Trowa had kept mostly to himself when the four would get together for practice or to write music. It wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable around Heero or Wufei. He was; he was just naturally a quiet, low-key person. But since Duo has been around, Trowa had slowly started opening up a little bit more, adding more to their group conversations.

“Trowa. It’s been six weeks. Heero and I knew almost instantly.”

Trowa narrowed his eyes. “That was different, and you know it.” 

Wufei snorted and took off his glasses, setting them down with his notes and textbook.

Circumstances _were_ different with Wufei and Heero finding out about Trowa’s body. When they all met in August, Trowa had only been on testosterone for a little over a month and was still awkward with his beginning stages of transitioning. He tried to hide it, but his voice would crack at the most inopportune times; he felt and sounded like a young boy going through puberty. But for some reason, it didn’t seem to faze Heero or Wufei a bit and they took his transitioning in stride. 

“That may be so, but it doesn’t change the fact that you need to tell him.”

Trowa threw his hands up and let out an exasperated sigh. “What do you want me to say? ‘Good morning, Duo. By the way, I’m transgendered, how’s your day going?’ Be realistic, Wufei.” He slumped forward a little in his chair, letting his hands fall back onto the table. “What if he thinks I’m too much of a freak and quits?”

Wufei frowned and moved so he was sitting closer to Trowa. Trowa twitched a little when Wufei rested his hand on the other boy’s left forearm, but didn’t pull away from the touch. “You’re not a freak.” Wufei sighed and tucked a loose clump of his fine black hair behind his ear. “You’re Trowa Barton, and you’re a man. It’s not your fault that you were born into the wrong body. And if Maxwell can’t see past that, then we’ll find a new singer.”

Trowa gave Wufei a weak smile and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I guess you’re right. But let me tell him on my own terms, okay? Right now, I just want to worry about this damn midterm and the show next week.”

Their eyes briefly met, and Wufei sighed. “Fine. I just hope your plans don’t turn around and bite you in the ass."


	2. One of THOSE Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa is just your not-so-average college student that wants to make it big in the music industry with his band. Will his secret test his relationships and hurt his chances in music? Trans!Trowa. In this chapter, it's showtime, but Trowa isn't doing so hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely @manniness!

_March 5, 2009_

“Trowa, are you okay?”

Trowa opened his eyes and glanced up at Quatre. He felt miserable, and from the worry on his roommate’s face he must have looked just as bad as he felt. Trowa was curled up on the couch, wrapped up in a big, fluffy burgundy blanket with only his head sticking out. His skin was pale and clammy to the touch, and he couldn’t shake the dizziness clouding his head. But the worst of it was the pain. A sharp throbbing sensation stabbed at Trowa’s stomach from the inside out, radiating up the small of his back. Nausea from the pain came in waves, and he could already feel the beginnings of a migraine in the base of his skull.

Trowa almost wished he had the flu; he’d have an excuse to hole himself up in his bedroom and have Quatre take care of him until the sickness passed. But he wasn’t so lucky. No, what Trowa had, in his eyes, was much worse.

Every month since starting testosterone, Trowa expected his menstrual cycle to have stopped. Since starting bi-monthly group therapy sessions back in August, he’d come to know several other trans men and women, all ranging in various stages of transitioning. Most men he’d spoken with had stopped having their periods around month six of starting hormone replacement therapy, but Trowa was ending month eight and was still bleeding. His doctor said that nothing was wrong with his body and that every person reacts differently to transitioning. It didn’t change the fact that Trowa was annoyed, though. His periods were always painful, even before he had started the injections, but this time it seemed different. He never felt this _weak_.

“Can you fix me a hot water bottle, Quat? I’m too dizzy to get up.”

Quatre made a sympathetic noise and ran into the kitchen, Trowa listening as his roommate flipped the tap on the sink and waited for the water to heat up. Trowa knew that the other boy was worried about his wellbeing. He always had bad cramping and migraines during his time of the month and over the years Quatre had witnessed the pain on multiple occasions, but Trowa didn’t think that the blonde had ever seen him this sick before. Generally, days two and three were always the worst and that afternoon marked day two. That meant tomorrow would be just as bad, if not worse.

When Quatre walked out of the kitchen, hot water bottle and towel in hand, the sick boy had his eyes shut tight and was shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a way to relieve some of the pain. Quatre carefully moved the blanket his best friend was cocooned inside of and wrapped the hot water bottle in the dishtowel, gingerly placing it against Trowa’s lower stomach.

Trowa hissed softly at the pressure of the bottle and let his head drop back against the worn out black leather of the couch as Quatre wrapped him back up in the warm blanket. He hated that he was so damn pathetic like this.

“Thanks.” 

Trowa wrapped his arms around his chest protectively under the burgundy material, trying to ignore the sensitive feeling of his unbound breasts underneath his thin t-shirt. He bit down on his bottom lip to keep a tiny whimper from escaping; of course _they_ had to be tender too.

Quatre sighed and sat down in the armchair closest to Trowa, crisscrossing his legs underneath himself.

“Maybe I should take you into the emergency room. You look awful, Trowa.”

“I’ll be fine. We have a show tomorrow, remember?”

Quatre groaned and rubbed his forehead. “There’s no way that you can play in your condition. We’ll postpone the show to after Spring Break.”

“Hell no. Duo’s been looking forward to this for _weeks_.”

Trowa knew that he shouldn’t push himself; there would always be other shows in the future. It wasn’t like the gig on campus was a big deal, anyway, but Trowa couldn’t help remembering how ecstatic Duo was when the band managed to book a set at The Pub. Duo’s entire body radiated exuberance, and it made Trowa’s heart swell.

He turned his gaze back to the blonde perched on the armchair, and the other boy clearly was not happy with Trowa’s decision.

“Fine, but you’re not going to practice today. Don’t _even_ think about arguing.” Quatre narrowed his eyes into a fierce glare and his jaw tightened, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

A tiny “eep” escaped Trowa and he shut his mouth, not saying another word. Quatre could be damned scary when he wanted to be.

XxXxX

Duo was sprawled on his stomach on the floor of Wufei’s living room, sketching only God knows what, when Quatre arrived. If Wufei was unnerved, then Quatre could only imagine what was going through Heero’s head.

“I’m telling you, guys, matching outfits would be fucking _sweet_. We can totally rock the spandex, and-- oh, hi guys!” Duo stopped mid-flail and sat up, frowning when only Quatre walked through the entryway. “Where’s Tro-man?”

Quatre flopped onto the couch next to Heero and snuggled close, sighing as he rested his head on Heero’s shoulder. A strong arm wrapped around the blonde’s waist as he made himself comfortable. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain Trowa’s absence to Duo; the longhaired brunette was still in the dark.

“He’s sick, so I made him stay home.”

Wufei quirked a brow at Quatre and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Sick with what? He was just fine yesterday.”

Quatre narrowed his eyes and gave Wufei his best “not now” look. The Chinese boy stared at the blonde in confusion for a few seconds when his eyes widened, pulling a face and looking away.

Duo was thoroughly confused at the interaction between Wufei and Quatre. Something was going on, something that was purposely being kept from him and he wanted to know why. He felt something had been… off for a few weeks now, with Trowa, and he had planned on cornering the other boy that afternoon after practice. The tall boy always seemed to be at some sort of doctor’s appointment, and when Duo had asked Heero about it in Music Theory, the other boy just said it was “nothing serious” and refused to elaborate any further.

“Is Tro gonna be okay?”

Quatre gave Duo a soft smile. “He’ll be fine, just some stomach problems. He swears he’ll be okay by tomorrow night.” 

Duo arched a brow and flicked his braid over his shoulder, letting it fall against his back.

“We can postpone, ya know. It’d give us more time to put together our outfits.”

Quatre lifted his head from Heero’s shoulder and frowned. 

“Outfits?”

“Yeah! See, look.” Duo walked on his knees over to where Quatre was cuddled with his boyfriend and handed the blonde the spiral-bound notebook he had been drawing on earlier. Quatre took the sketchpad from the other boy and when his eyes fell on the picture, his blonde brows shot up on his forehead.

Looking up at Quatre from the page were five boys clad in tight pants- Quatre couldn’t tell if they were supposed to be jeans, leather or spandex- and varying degrees of near shirtlessness. Quatre couldn’t help but burst into laughter, his entire body shaking in amusement. Next to him, Heero took the spiral and stared at the drawing, his brows furrowing into a look of displeasure before handing the pad of paper back to Duo.

“No.”

Duo pouted and dropped the sketchpad to the floor, hopping to his feet. “Oh, come on, man. I bet Trowa would go for it!”

Wufei rolled his eyes as he recrossed his legs.

“Maxwell, you’re the only one who could possibly want to go out like that on stage. I’m not wearing _that_.”

Quatre brushed away a tear from his cheek, having calmed down from his fit of laughter. “Sorry, Duo. Let’s just stick with jeans and t-shirts.”

Duo sighed and flopped into the free chair next to Wufei. “Fine.” Saying he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing Trowa in tight spandex was more than an understatement.

XxXxX

_March 6, 2009_

The UNT campus was mostly deserted when Trowa arrived the following evening, everyone without Friday classes having already taken off to get an early start on Spring Break. After a very persuasive conversation with his best friend (one which may have involved Quatre threatening to put the taller boy under house arrest with his father’s company’s head of security, Rashid), Trowa opted to run through the set list on his own at the apartment while the rest of the guys set things up at the campus bar. The pain in his stomach continued to scorch through his body and his head throbbed, but the nausea had tapered off and he could walk without getting dizzy or light headed. He still wasn’t too sure how the actual concert would fair, but seeing Duo happy would more than make up for the pain.

With a soft grunt, Trowa slid gingerly out of his car and carefully hefted his bass guitar case from the back seat. His upper body strength was near nonexistent, and as Trowa made his way to the Student Union building he found himself second-guessing the decision to go on with the show. He groaned when he walked over to the outside staircase leading up to the bar area of the SU and opted for the long, handicapped accessible ramp that led up to the same place; there was no way he could handle walking up such a long stretch of stairs as weak as he was feeling.

Trowa wrestled open the door to The Pub with his free hand. Lady Gaga’s voice filtered through the jumbled chatter of students cluttered around the bar and tables, the warm atmosphere drawing the tall boy inside. He easily spotted Quatre and the rest of his friends on the small stage on the opposite side of the venue. The four boys were still fiddling with their instruments and various equipment needed for the show. Duo was the first to see Trowa make his way over to the stage and the braided boy smiled- bright and infectious- waving animatedly as Trowa walked over and climbed onto the stage.

“Hey, man!” As Trowa moved closer, Duo took in the other boy’s appearance and his smile fell. Trowa’s skin held an ashy paleness to it, and his normally vibrant emerald green eyes looked dull and muted.

“Dude. You look like shit.”

Trowa snorted and laid his guitar case down on the concrete of the stage, squatting down and unlocking the tabs. He flipped open the case, carefully easing out his bass guitar.

“Thanks, Duo. Exactly what I wanted to hear before the show.”

Duo waved a hand and squatted down next to Trowa, grabbing the cord to connect the bass to one of the amps.

“You sure you’re up to this? We can still bail, ya know.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Trowa gave Duo the biggest grin he could muster, the expression not quite reaching his eyes, and he slowly stood back up. 

Duo followed suit, brushing off the thighs of his worn out whitewashed jeans. He watched as Trowa wasted no time in connecting his bass to the amplifier and stood the guitar in its stand next to Heero’s. Duo let his eyes wander from Trowa to where the other three guys stood. Quatre was talking animatedly to Heero near his synthesizer and keyboards, and the dark haired boy’s lips held a soft smile reserved only for the blonde.

Trowa made his way over to where Wufei was sitting bored-ly behind his drum kit, twirling one of his drumsticks with his fingers. When the Chinese boy noticed the other boy walking toward him, he offered a small smile.

“You ready, Barton?”

Trowa nodded and ran a hand through his hair, fixing his messy bangs. “As ready as I’m going to be, I suppose. You?”

Wufei laughed, drumming out a beat with the wooden sticks in his hands on his thighs. The boy was nervous, probably more so than the rest of the group. It was odd; Wufei was never nervous like this before a show. But deep in the pit of his stomach, he had a feeling of dread. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something told him that something bad would happen that night.

“Always,” Wufei told Trowa nonchalantly, brushing aside his bad feeling about the concert.

Trowa shrugged and glanced over as Quatre and Heero walked over with Duo right behind, the braided boy bouncing with nerves and excitement.

“Let’s do our best, guys!” 

The boys nodded in agreement and made their way to their respective areas on stage, Heero and Trowa securing their guitars around their bodies while Quatre synced up his synthesizer. The bar radio was silenced and feet shuffled their way over to stand at the stage, students curious to see what college band was performing.

Duo grinned over at Trowa and grasped his microphone, removing it from the stand.

“Hey guys, we’re Sandrock! You’re in for one hell of a show.”

With that, Quatre queued up his synthesizer and Wufei kicked out the opening rhythm of the band’s opening song, starting off with a somewhat electronic cover of “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” to get the crowd going. Duo danced across the stage, his braid swinging behind him. Watching Duo’s movements on the stage, Trowa found himself relaxing. His fingers plucked the strings of his bass fluidly, letting his eyes slip shut as he was consumed by the music. Duo pranced over to Trowa and sang into the other boy’s microphone, and before Trowa could register what was happening, Duo placed a wet kiss to his cheek and bounced off to the other side of the stage. Trowa’s fingers faltered slightly and he felt his face flush, but he quickly recovered and let the song come to a close.

Heero shared a grin with Duo and his fingers plucked the opening riff of the next song, one of the very first original songs Sandrock had written with Duo in the band. The crowd in front of the stage had grown incredibly huge. People were having to stand up at tables closer to the bar just to be able to see. The atmosphere in the air was enough to nearly choke Duo up a little, not having expected to receive such an overwhelming response from the other students on campus. The longhaired boy was beaming brighter than Trowa could even imagine, and he knew that not canceling the show had been the right thing to do.

By the fourth song, Trowa felt fatigue begin to set in. A cold sweat ran down his forehead and neck, dripping onto the soft cotton of his black scoop neck t-shirt. He tried to ignore the pain searing through his abdomen and concentrate on playing his bass, but the cramps were continuing to grow worse. He straightened his back so that he wasn’t so hunched over his instrument, attempting to relieve the pressure building in his stomach and lower back. A particularly strong wave of pain seized through his body and he stumbled on his feet.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath as he regained his footing.

He looked up from focusing on playing and Duo’s gaze snared him. The other boy continued to sing, but Trowa could see confusion in those cobalt eyes. Trowa shook it off and returned his attention back to the music playing around him. He focused on the chords, on the rhythm, shoving everything else out of his mind. A particularly heavy bass section was coming up, and Trowa knew he’d have to use all of his remaining energy in getting it right.

Trowa gritted his teeth as his belly cramped tight. His fingers faltered and he stumbled again, a wave of dizziness overtaking his senses.

Tears pricked behind Trowa’s eyes from the pain, and he quickly blinked them away; he refused to cry over it, especially in front of Duo and the countless familiar faces from campus. His fingers trembled against the strings of his guitar and his vision was swimming. He couldn’t breathe, his knees weak, and he was falling- everything seemed to slow down right before hearing a loud thud and a sharp pain shot through the back of his skull.

“Trowa!”

Everything faded to black.

XxXxX

The bar was in complete chaos. Patrons ran in every direction, some not sure if they should leave while others swarmed around the stage wanting to see what happened to the boy sprawled on his back, bass half on top of his unconscious body. Duo’s microphone fell abandoned to the stage floor, a sharp squeal piercing through the sound system, but he didn’t care. He rushed to Trowa’s side, the three other boys following suit. Duo carefully freed the boy of his guitar and tried not to panic as he sank to his knees next to Trowa.

“Someone call an ambulance! Fuck!”

Wufei fumbled for his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, struggling to stay calm while he told the operator what happened and where they were. Heero wrapped his arms around Quatre, trying to keep the blonde boy from freaking out.

An ambulance was three minutes out, three minutes that felt like an eternity. Duo didn’t know what to do for Trowa. The boy passed was out on the cold concrete of the stage. Duo desperately wanted to hold him, but was afraid to move him in case he had hurt his head or neck in the fall. Instead Duo gripped one of Trowa’s hands; the skin was cold and sticky with sweat but he refused to let go.

Two paramedics rushed into the bar and over to the stage, students who were still watching the scene unfold steering clear so that the two men could wheel through a stretcher. Reluctantly, Duo stood up and stepped out of the paramedics’ way. He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, watching intently as the medics assessed Trowa.

“He’s tachycardic, let’s get him in a neck brace and on the stretcher and start a saline drip.” One of the men looked away from Trowa and at the four waiting boys standing behind him. “Which one of you is riding with him?”

“I will.” Duo stepped forward, watching as the medic held Trowa’s head while the other fastened the brace around Trowa’s neck. The two men carefully slid a board underneath Trowa, using it to stabilize the boy’s body and lift him onto the waiting gurney.

Wufei rested a hand on Duo’s left shoulder, his eyes surprisingly soft when Duo turned his head to look at the Chinese boy.

“Let Quatre go. He knows Trowa’s medical history.”

Duo frowned. “I want to go.”

Quatre slipped from Heero’s arms and started to speak but was abruptly cut off by the paramedic.

“You both can go. We need to get him to the hospital _now_.”

Heero cupped his boyfriend’s cheeks and gave him a firm kiss.

“Go. Wufei and I will follow in the Jeep.”

Quatre gave Duo a sideways glance and nodded, quickly climbing into the back of the ambulance with other boy. He watched as the medic sitting in the back readied an IV and searched for a vein on Trowa’s right arm, the medic’s mouth curving in a small frown. He eventually managed to start the IV, hanging a bag of saline on the pole connected to the ceiling of the ambulance. 

The man grabbed a clipboard from the seat next to him, jotting down a few notes. He went back to examining Trowa, stopping when he located the boy’s wallet, and plucked out the boy’s driver’s license. He made a surprised noise as read the boy’s information, jerking his gaze up to Quatre and Duo.

“Are you sure this is _his_ license?” 

The man handed the ID to Quatre and the blonde boy read over it, nodding. 

“Yes, this is correct.”

Duo looked over Quatre’s shoulder, frowning as he read through the words written on the driver’s license. It didn’t make sense.

**Name** : Barton, Trina Elizabeth  
 **Sex** : Female

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Tachycardia- In layman’s terms, basically Trowa’s heart is beating more rapid than it should.
> 
> 2\. For those of you who are wondering about what the boys' band actually sounds like, imagine that Saosin, Shiny Toy Guns, The Cab, and Cobra Starship (before 2009 *shudders*) all had a giant orgy and Sandrock is their lovechild. Heh. Also, I took a bit of creative license in describing the layout of UNT. I attended a different university, and that’s what I’m using as a guideline for this.


End file.
